My recent experiences jarred my reality to the point where I have needed time to just adjust to a different perspective concerning – which is the dream? What I knew before SFTX (San Francisco Tango Exchange) is that I had swallowed the RED PILL.  What I did not know at the time were the outcomes and ramifications of my ingestion, which began to uncloak themselves during SFTX.  Though I intended to blog sooner, I needed to assimilate and calibrate – I am still in process.

On a sunny and cool Thursday afternoon in the heart of San Francisco, Alice (a vibrant Australian tanguera) and I witnessed the unfurling of our interconnectedness.     As we enjoyed our distinctively non-American coffee drinks (they were strong) at a European bistro, we expressed our enchantment at how our synchronicities spanned 2 1/2 years.

Our first visible layer of connection started in August 2008.  Alice called me to inquire about Tango privates.  She was in Boulder visiting her daughter and wanted instruction.  She chose me from a list of Tango instructors listed on Tango Colorado’s website, and confessed that my website’s name, Tango For Life, called to her with a knowing that I could teach her.

We worked together for about 12 hours in less than 2 weeks in a remodeled basement made into a Tango studio complete with a sprung oak floor, two walls of mirrors, a bathroom, and a spare bedroom for visiting instructors or tangueros/as.  At the end of our time together, Alice proclaimed triumph and amazement at her Tango transformation through our work.  Later upon dancing in Australia, she detailed the delight dancers displayed at her new-found dance skills.  I revealed to her my joy at being a facilitator of her process, and underlying fulfillment in how well we worked together.

We kept in touch via e-mail.  Then on May 11th this year, Alice informed me she would be traveling through Colorado and would like to take another round of privates.  After a few e-mail exchanges and phone calls, Alice synchronized her schedule to meet me in San Francisco on her way back to Australia while I was at SFTX.  I was not sure of my schedule to Salt Lake City or San Francisco until a week before I left, but Alice needed to book her ticket so she did and hoped we would meet.

Alice wanted to meet enough that she made sure we could meet in a far off city, if even for a couple of hours of instruction .  Showing up is one of the traits I treasure the most, and I respond to people showing up.  Alice called me four hours after I arrived at Berkley, not knowing if I had even left Colorado.  What she also did not know is that I had planned on meeting her before the Cellspace milonga that night.  I had to go out of my comfort zone to get to her hotel in SF from Berkley using public transportation.

Two things propelled me to go out of my comfort zone – one is that Alice showed up, and two, I felt drawn.  It seemed events were lining up to meet with her, as I began to follow dreamtime space.  Only rare occasions has life compelled me to follow and allow myself to be guided by dipping briefly into dreamtime space.  In dreamtime space I just let my environment be a metaphor of what and how I am creating my experience.

What does dreamtime space look like?  As an example:  as I now write, I am sitting on my California king bed in my RV with my kitty snuggled up on my right, laptop upon my lap, the Fantastic Fan drawing outside air through the RV interior, and I am still a little hot.  Three lights are on, 2 high spectrum florescent, 1 normal florescent.  Allowing myself to drop into dreamtime space, I acknowledge I have a loyal companion at all times for me (cat), the lighting is low and surreal where I am in a bit of a limbo with my own sight of which is dream, and being a little hot I am a bit stale in my life, needing a fresh breeze of movement, and the fan’s incessant background noise reminds me of the noise I create that blocks deep listening.

So which is dream?  Even though I am making meaning and metaphor out of my environment, perhaps this meaning (dream) is more accurate than what appears in life (reality) thereby making reality actually the dream.  Some would say this is so – that what I see “reality” is the dream- for what I see is just what I have created, not reality.  And what is more real is the fact that I as source can dream and create experiences and events very different than what is appearing now.  Some would say EVERYTHING I have experienced, including all events and people are just my creation – the dream, different than the origin of the creation – I as source – reality .

Which is the dream?

The Umbrella Tango Dance Scene

Do you have a secret wish or dream, a fantasy or fancy in Tango?  I discovered to my thrill and amusement that a few individuals fulfilled a long standing dream on a lazy rainy Sunday afternoon at Sugar House Park in Salt Lake City.  And I went from Tango Purgatory to Tango Heaven with my first Umbrella Tango, an auspiciously sweet memory for decades to come.

On Sunday afternoon I drove up to the small picnic pavilion at Sugar House Park.  Here food, Tango music, tango addicts, tango wannabees, and tango watchers were to be found.  I mingled but for a bit before I retrieved my jacket from my RV.  It was a wee bit chilly.  A bit more mingling before the rain came down and our cement dance space with 2 grills on 2 ends became a nightmare for tango shoes with suede.

Tova took charge by clearing two picnic tables among a dozen under cover of the pavilion, and then jumping on top to dance with Carlos – damn they are so good.  Carlos cracks me up, always, and not so secretly I let people know I would love to have his campiness with skill.  After dancing with Carlos, Tova announced who’s next?  Others joined her as well as tango adventurers dancing on an adjacent table.  However, it became clear that not all would join the jovial jubilee of Tango gyration – maintaining balance had just inherited severe consequences dancing up on high.

Katherine & Dave in their Magical Umbrella Tango - Photo by Barbara Bagnasacco

Then it appeared – in the definitive rain shower – a couple began to dance while holding an umbrella.

To my surprise, Katherine,  standing and talking next to me as a new-found Tango obsessed comrade sheepishly asked, “Do you have an umbrella?  I have always wanted to dance in the rain with an umbrella.”  I quickly answered, “Yes I do.  In my bag.”  I quickly walked to my bag, and as reached into my bag to get my umbrella out, I realized Katherine had followed me, quickly!  I am accustomed to retrieving what I need and then going back to a tanguera in waiting.  She did not wait, so I understood at that point she was more than a little excited.

Katherine & Dave in Umbrella Tango - photo by Barbara Bagnasacco

And then we danced to 4 alternative songs while we both held my black designer Eddie Bauer compact umbrella.   Within a couple of minutes of dancing, Katherine kicked off her flip-flops, as I kept my Keen sandals on.  I became excited as I did something quite different in Tango.  The rain did pour, and the laughter rose.

Soon our laughter became a salve for my heart with an unknown hurting.  Katherine’s infectious joy began, slowly began, to evoke the sense of missing joy.  And it was not until after we walked off the puddle-filled “dance floor” that I felt slowly, ever so slowly, something slinking into my aching Tango heart.  I did not want to dance with anyone else, nor ask anyone else to dance.  I felt filled with a childlike giddiness, but also forlorn.

What was this slow slinking?  For the past few days I have reflected on what aches so much.  As I travel the western part of the country, I feel in my heart – a serious ache that yanks my focus onto it.  I find that as I feel the ache, I keep coming back to this most delicious of memories – my Umbrella Tango Tanda.  The Umbrella Tango experience is a glimmer of dreams gone by and dreams to come.  I sense I am in a limbo between unfulfilled dreams and dreams I am to fulfill.

And with my memories and reflections I am off to begin the SFTX (San Francisco Tango Exchange) Tango Festival.

Within 2 minutes of stepping onto the dance floor of the first milonga of Salt Lake City’s Tango Festival, I found myself in a Tango crucible, incredulous at the speed of entrance.  I intended to go deeper in action with Ulysses’ sage words by being confident and kind to myself, but instead dropped into the pit of my abdomen with a wrenching knotted up ball of emotions – Tango meltdown!

Words streamed through my head, some of which may be familiar to you:  I have so far to go to be able to dance good; people don’t want to dance with me; people don’t like me; people don’t want me; why am I here?; I just made a big mistake of coming tonight; I should leave now; I am so NOT worthy of a significant relationship; I can’t believe that person is dancing with so and so, but not me; why the hell do I keep coming back to Tango?; I AM IN TANGO HELL!

I contained my emotions, sat a lot while gazing at dancers flowing by, enjoyed connecting with several wonderful tangueras, and left at 1 AM wondering if I would even go to the next milonga here or instead drive home

In my Tango Hell, I still enjoyed and admired Mike Tennant’s DJing, and noticed how much beauty the venue held.  The milonga hall sat in the center of Gallivan Center – a conglomeration of buildings in downtown Salt Lake City.  Its angled ceiling climbed to about 23 feet on one edge with an entire wall of glass looking out onto the night.

The milonga contained a gender balance, which delighted several tangueras!  A crowd smaller than I am use to seeing at festivals, filled the room just right.  People seemed to enjoy themselves.  Actually many people were effusive with their delight of the milonga the next day.  However, because I sat in the crucible’s fire, my honed ability to feel into others and discern what they felt waned significantly – so I did not know if people were enjoying themselves until they told me later.

Crucible – my dictionary defines a crucible as: a place or occasion of severe test or trial; a place or situation in which different elements interact to produce something new.  Within this metaphorical Tango crucible one can experience transformation through the alchemical process of high heat, or just remain in the excruciating blaze.  The image of remaining in the fire without transforming seems similar to how most people depict hell.

Transformation requires working through, processing and getting to the other side of whatever one is going through.  Change is more incremental, and often just requires feeling a little better.  With change, the crucible is still being sustained with fire, but one only adjusts, staying in the fire without an alchemical process transpiring.

My life issue that arose in this Tango crucible is not new.  However, I obviously have not gotten to the other side of the life issue running through me, or running me.  As a psychotherapist, I can confidently say I may never get to the other side, EVER, or I could allow the crucible to heat up and do its work if I stay in the rising heat long enough.  I desire transformation, for having this life issue arise consistently at festivals shouts at me to effectively deal with it and just does not feel good!

How does one allow the heat of things so emotionally uncomfortable to actually heat up enough to allow the alchemical process take place?  Good question, and though I am a little smug in asking such a good question, I am also a little embarrassed that I have not answered this question for myself even though I can answer this for others.  Bottom line – I still experience tango meltdowns – almost all of them are the same life issue, the same familiar set of sensations and accompanying thoughts.

I was reluctant to share what may seem to some individuals to be very personal information.  A tanguero I know already expressed his distaste over how personal my blogs are.  However, I believe many if not the great majority of tangueros/as experience some of these thoughts and feelings now and then.  What would it take for greater sharing of not just the highs, but the lows of our experiences in the Tango world?  And not just sharing in blogs?

In consulting Ulysses on this experience, he e-mailed back:  ”Dave, sometimes you don’t have to know what is going on, or be an expert.  Just be an honest chronicler of the human struggle.  That is value enough!”

Well, I am certainly having a very human struggle.

What appears in one's mind, is not necessarily appearing...

In the Tango world I have unveiled more than a few illusions, and the fact of uncovering illusions pulls on me to wonder how deep the rabbit hole of the Tango Matrix goes.  Here are several illusions I have encountered:

Entering a new milonga in a new city as the new kid on the block, I spotted a women in Comme Il Faut shoes.  I assumed she had some experience dancing Tango.  After dancing 5 seconds with her, I understand the potential misperception on level of dancing connected with wearing great Tango shoes.  Great Tango shoes does not equal great dancing.

Observing dancers in a new milonga in a new town, I watched for women I wanted to ask for a Tanda.  Five out of the ten women I desired to dance with looked great with the teacher and milonga organizer.  I got to dance with one of them and experienced roboing (when someone automatically performs steps or patterns or moves without any lead, and sometimes continues to move even when the lead is totally silent, doing nothing).  She could not follow, and hung on me with a gas pedaling right arm.  After a dance with another of the Five and the having the same experience, I puzzled over what was going on.

After a third dance of the Five, I decided to watch these 3 of the 5 I danced with, with other tangueros and their teacher.  I realized the teacher had taught patterns, but not how to follow or fundamentals.  His students looked great with him, but could not follow.  That taught me to watch tangueras with different tangueros before I assessed my potential desire for a tanda with them.  Tangueras that dance great with one tanguero, do not necessarily dance great with me.

After attending a good number of festivals, I acknowledge that the quality of teachers does not dictate the quality of dancers attending, nor the quality of DJing.  Enough said.

Even though a tanguera that I want to dance with may not be present near the beginning of the first song, mysteriously and often a tanguera that I desire to dance with appears well after the beginning of a tanda.  Whether it is from the bathroom, outside the milonga hall, from behind someone or a group of people, or from off the dance floor, tangueras may appear.  Waiting often pays off for me.  This seems to happen with tangueros too!  I know that I have appeared from “out of nowhere” and received a cabaceo.  The tanguera that just asked me to dance, sometimes will ask me some version of, “I didn’t see you.  Where were you hiding?”  I just smile and dance.

I think I have done a good job of cabaceoing a tanguera for an entire milonga.  Later in the festival, or perhaps after the festival, I let her know in some communication (IM/ e-mail/ phone/ text) that I really wanted to dance with her and had cabaceoed her.  She responds with, “I didn’t see you/ I wanted to dance with you too/ My sight is terrible/ I didn’t think you would want to dance with me so I didn’t look for your cabaceo.”  And sometimes I have discovered a tanguera was less than truthful in her response to my communication – at a later festival I still did not get her eyes for a cabaceo, but other tangueros did.  Tangueras that use cabaceo, know if they are being cabaceoed, and if they do not respond to a cabaceo, they really do not want to dance with me at that time.  However, I must know if they can see the distance from where I cabaceo them.

If a tanguera wants to dance with me, she will let me know.  If she does not let me know, I am on her B or C list, but not her A list. (A List = must dance with them, and will dance just about any music with them; B List = if someone from A list is not available or have not danced with B list individual in some time; C List = will not dance with them until something changes such as level of dance, level of attraction/ repellant, issue with them, a good amount of time passes)

Without stories, here are observations on illusions that have arisen from stories:

• Just because I watch a tanguera dance a lot one way (open or close embrace) does not mean they do not dance another way.
• Age does not dictate dance ability.
• Years in Tango do not dictate dance ability.
• Dance ability does not dictate level of connection.
• Level of connection often dictates quality of tanda for me – high connection = great tanda!
• Level of kindness of tanguera influences level of connection/ attraction – kinder = greater connection/ attraction!
• Level of rudeness of tanguera influences level of repellant – ruder = greater repellant!
• Everything above about tangueras goes for tangueros

What other illusions have you all found?

As I face my choice of red pill vs. blue pill in the Tango Matrix, I am exploring some of the cultural background of Tango.  I want to unveil deeper truths of Tango on my own before I go down the rabbit hole.  Going down the rabbit hole is a one way trip – returning to ignorant bliss is not an option.

Below is part of an entry from uncyclopedia.wikia.com.  I recommend reading their full entry on Argentine culture.  However, I suspect political correctness in their view is defined far different than mainstream  Warning- may not be suitable for anyone who dislikes being offended…

Argentine Language

For everyone who invested two, or five years learning Spanish, or for those who took the time on a crash course or just spent hard earned income buying phrasebooks, congratulations.  All your efforts and money will be completely useless in Argentina.

But there is hope for you. It’s not hard at all to learn the Argentine Language, in fact it only takes a few minutes as the following short read will demonstrate. Take the following Spanish language sentence:

Oye, ¿quien eres tú? Vienes aquí a coger mujeres en la calle y bailar tango con ellas. (This translates to: “Hey, who are you? You come here to pick up women on the streets and to dance tango with them.”)

But saying it like this will render you an ignorant tourist at best, or an inferior sub-human from a neighboring country next to best.  With these simple ten, 12 steps below you will be able to make yourself understood in the Argie tongue:

1. Replace “oye” with a 1000% Argentine word, che. No one knows where this word came from, but many say it is derived from brazilian homosexuals, ironic since today virtually none of them are around. Wonder what happened to them?
   Oye Che, ¿quien eres tú? Vienes aquí a coger mujeres en la calle y bailar tango con ellas.
2. “Che“, following Argentine etiquette, is ALWAYS followed by the word “boludo“, s term to express respect and friendship. Its closest translation in English language is believed to be “asshole“.
   Oye Che boludo, ¿quien quien eres tú? Vienes aquí a coger mujeres en la calle y bailar tango con ellas.
3. Quien is spelled the correct educated computer age way in Argentina, “kien”
   Oye Che boludo, ¿quien kien eres tú? Vienes aquí a coger mujeres en la calle y bailar tango con ellas.
4. Replace “eres tu” with sos vos. Unfortunately, all those verbs in Spanish which had you eating the corners of your textbook are officially worthless. Argentines use an entirely different 2nd person singular pronoun (vos instead of tu), and that means all verb endings change too, so the conjugation of the verb ‘to be’ is not eres, but sos. Enjoy learning all 25,000 verb endings all over again!
   Oye Che boludo, ¿quien kien eres tú sos vos? Vienes aquí a coger mujeres en la calle y bailar tango con ellas.
5. “Vienes” must be replaced with venís. Again poor you, using the subject pronoun vos, has the effect of completely changing the spelling of verbs.
   Oye Che boludo, ¿quien kien eres tú sos vos? Vienes Venís aquí a coger mujeres en la calle y bailar tango con ellas.
6. Take out “aquí” and use acá. Aquí is absolutely forbidden from use, as in Argentina this word sounds too much like Spanish, a language spoken in Bolivia, Mexico, Colombia.
   Oye Che boludo, ¿quien kien eres tú sos vos? Vienes Venís aquí acá a coger mujeres en la calle y bailar tango con ellas.
7. Here your options are a bit more open for you. You could replace “coger mujeres” (“to pick up women” in Spain and Latin America), with recoger mujeres, which is the correct way of saying “to pick up women” in Argentina. Another choice should be “buscar” mujeres (to look for women), which would fully disclose the appreciation of the chances a stranger has on getting chicks unless he handles the local language. On the other hand, you could leave “coger mujeres” alone, if your intention is to F-CK the chicks right there on the spot, which was probably what you were thinking anyways. But if you want a bit more privacy, we do advice to replace “coger” with “buscar”.
   Oye Che boludo, ¿quien kien eres tú sos vos? Vienes Venís aquí acá a coger buscar mujeres en la calle y bailar tango con ellas.
   (ps ALWAYS replace “coger” with “tomar” or “agarrar” when saying you want to “take” a bus. In Spanish-speaking nations coger el bus is the correct form of saying “taking the bus”. In Argentina saying this will probably lead to a response like “sure, go ahead, I guess you can do so through the muffler”.)
8. “Mujeres” is a far too formal expression not a single Argentine would deign to pronounce. A more appropriate word would be “minas” (chicks), a slang which has also the benefit of expressing properly the high consideration Argentines have towards the feminine gender.
   Oye Che boludo, ¿quien kien eres tú sos vos? Vienes Venís aquí acá a coger buscar mujeres minas en la calle y bailar tango con ellas.
9. In Argentino, all nouns have their syllables switched so that “tango” became “gotan”. So always reverse the syllables of all nouns, it’s simple and you won’t go wrong in your quest to fit in!!(But it isn’t REALLY necessary, unless you want to be a real moron. If you do you are almost Argentinian!!!! KANGRETULAYSHUNS!!)
   Oye Che boludo, ¿quien kien eres tú sos vos? Vienes Venís aquí acá a coger buscar mujeres minas en la calle y bailar tango gotán con ellas.
10. If you are in Buenos Aires, Uruguay and some other areas, further rules have to be applied. To be precise, within the borders of the described regions one should consider all territories below the Tropic of Capricorn, when Saturn fulfill its duty in the fifth house of Uranus, and Mars is conjunction with Titanus. And, of course, during full moon. In Main Argentino you have to pronounce the “ll”s correctly, so switch out “calle” with “ca-sshe”, and “ellas” for e-sshas.
    Oye Che boludo, ¿quien kien eres tú sos vos? Vienes Venís aquí acá a coger buscar mujeres minas en la calle ca-sshe y bailar tango gotán con ellas con e-sshas.
11. You can leave “en la calle” (“on the street”) alone, as this is how every local and tourist ends up when their girlfriend or wife finds out they were carrying out the commands of this sentence. And presto! You are speaking Argentino.

Spanish: Oye, ¿quien eres tú? Vienes aquí a coger mujeres en la calle y bailar tango con ellas.
Argentino: Che boludo, ¿kien sos vos? Venís acá a buscar minas en la ca-sshe y bailar gotán con e-sshas.

See, no difference at all!

I have snatched cubic centimeter of chances.  One of these special portals to vast life change appeared at night in Madison, WI as a friend mentioned some small psychotherapy learning program.  I felt something inside compel me to ask its name and location.  Shortly thereafter, I called this program in Boulder, CO, applied to it and set up a visit.  A couple weeks later I visited the school.  Three months later I moved, engaged in full time classes in a 2 year Masters program in Jungian, Archetypal and Transpersonal psychotherapy from this learning center named Avalon Institute.  Obviously my life executed a profoundly different beneficial trajectory ushered from the cubic centimeter of chance I seized.

As a psychotherapist, life coach, seminar facilitator and attendee at many personal growth seminars, I had the privilege to witness 1000′s of people endeavor and work at consciously evolving themselves.  During this time, I also witnessed dozens of individuals pass up potential cubic centimeter of chances.  The same occurs in Tango, as in the course of my Tango travels I have glimpsed possible portals to vast life change present themselves to individuals.

Yet, what fascinates me is how many people in Tango do not see nor seize their cubic centimeter of chance.  In effect, they take the blue pill of the Tango Matrix by leaving Tango or allowing Tango to be just a dance.

The Blue Pill offers bliss in ignorance, but also potentially leads to unexplainable dissatisfaction in Tango & Life

For years a phenomena in Tango has yanked me to disturbing confirmations, time and again.  I refer to this phenomena of when Tango enthusiasts grow dissatisfied with Tango and eventually quit.  I recently read a defunct blog where the tanguera describes in many of her last entries a growing dissatisfaction and fears with Tango.  Did she wonder if a lot more exists in Tango, and Tango is truly a metaphor of life?  I wonder how often how one deals with their dissatisfactions in Tango is akin to dealing with their dissatisfactions in life?  How often is giving up on Tango taking the blue pill?

I e-mailed a draft of this entry and the last to Ulysses.  He responded with these gripping words:

For many of your readers, your entries, particularly the cubic centimeter of chance and the blue pill, WILL BE THEIR cubic centimeter of chance, their portal!  They will feel a tug, hear a murmur, see a shimmer, taste a morsel, smell a whiff or sense that these words promise a  deeper truth of a portal.

But sadly most will dismiss this tug, murmur, shimmer, morsel, whiff and promise as whimsical, wistful or wishful.  They will miss their cubic centimeter of chance, perhaps the last one to tender itself  in their Tango world.  And they may even swallow the blue pill, forever cut off from the power Tango holds.

Notwithstanding, a few will seize their cubic centimeter of chance – their red pill awaits...